Adoption was never something I imagined growing up. The closest I came was through my Cabbage Patch dolls, each with a tiny adoption certificate. I always assumed i had follow the familiar path get married, have a house full of kids, and live a traditional family life. But life has different plans.
In my late twenties, I began meeting women who had chosen to adopt as single parents. Their stories moved me. They planted a seed I could not ignore. The idea of creating a family on my own especially in such an unfamiliar way took time to settle into my heart.
By the time I turned thirty, I found myself at an international adoption information meeting. I began researching, meeting with agencies, and praying about the direction I should take. Doubts naturally crept in. Would I be able to raise my own child? Would it be unfair to bring a child into a home without a father figure? My own dad, now gone, had played such a strong role in my life. But when I thought about the bigger picture millions of children without families I started to believe maybe, just maybe, one of those children was meant to be mine.
After much thought, I committed to the process. I was drawn to China’s adoption program, known for its structure and history of success. As a single woman, I was welcomed into the process, which gave me a sense of peace. I also knew it would be costly and slow, so I prepared myself in every way I could. The wait at the time was about 18 months a “paper pregnancy,” they call it filled with forms and documentation instead of baby showers and ultrasounds.
China offered two paths for single parents: non-special needs and special needs. Initially, I chose the non-special needs list, thinking it would be more manageable, especially on a teacher’s salary. But over time, the wait grew longer. I found myself slowly drawn to the idea of adopting a child with special needs. It was not a quick or easy shift for me someone who typically avoids risks. The unknowns were daunting. Special needs could mean anything from a cleft palate to limb differences or more complex health concerns.
Despite my fears, I kept feeling a pull, especially toward children with differences in their hands or feet. It started showing up in subtle ways: in things I read, conversations I had, even in dreams. I could not shake the feeling that this was the direction I was meant to take.
In October 2009, after five years of waiting, I officially switched to the special needs list. I began receiving files of children, each one full of hope and heartbreak. Saying “no” to any child felt nearly impossible, but deep inside, I kept hearing a quiet whisper: “Not yet. She is not yours.”
Then one day, shortly after declining a referral, I got a call. I had a feeling when I saw the file. Her name was Molly. The sense of certainty was immediate, like a light switching on inside me. I later learned that another family had considered her at the same time. It all fell into place like it was always meant to.
Molly was born with a disease that had affected her toes and fingers. The first images I saw of her were close-ups of her hands, the very thing that had been weighing on my heart. I accepted her referral without hesitation.
Three months later, I boarded a plane to China. My brother came with me, and we joined a group of about 25 families, all preparing to meet our children. “got you Day” the moment we met was full of emotion. Molly was terrified. Understandably so. While I felt overwhelming joy, for her, everything was strange and unfamiliar. In the beginning, she clung to me like a baby koala, refusing to let go.
Though I did not carry her in my womb, every touch, every whispered word, every sleepless night wove the threads of our bond.
Back home in Tennessee, Molly had surgery to improve the mobility of her hands and feet. She flourished. Today, she is a bright, creative, and energetic teenager who fills our home with music, laughter, and art. We talk about her story openly, and she carries it with grace and growing understanding.
Adoption has changed my life. It is been untidy and hard and more beautiful than I could have imagined. Molly filled a space in my heart I did not know was empty a space only she could fill.
If you are thinking about adoption or fostering, don’t let fear stop you. Ask questions. Take your time. Trust the path as it unfolds. It may look more different from the one you once pictured, but it just might lead you exactly where you are meant to be.
